"And does she know it's not fine that she cries at night?"
-"Susie May," beabadoobee
(Before)
There were three shiny boxes on the ground. Her father explained they were boxes to sleep in when you die.
The funeral was boring, so she didn't understand why everyone was crying. Six-year-old Jacob was standing far apart, hitting trees with a long stick. She didn't understand why he was allowed to play and she was not.
She didn't understand the way her mother stared at the coffins. One big and the other two small, almost by half. Twins.
She couldn't understand the look on her mother's face. The way Renee clutched her shoulder so hard that it hurt and cradled her huge stomach with the other hand.
She felt she was missing something. She didn't know what.
(after)
It is sunny the morning after the wake.
She blinks slowly at the ceiling fan. Watches the shadows of the leaves play on the wall at the wrong angle. Too late in the day to still be in bed. The wind shakes the branches. They brush their leafy fingers on the window, imploring her to wake up and join the world.
She rolls over.
Pulls the cover over her head.
Jacob had driven her home last night and he didn't ask her why she hadn't been to see them in almost a year.
"It's been a while," he said instead to the silence.
La Push became Forks when she finally replied.
"Yeah."
More silence.
"What did you and Dad talk about?"
She closed her eyes. The questions stopped.
Her and Jacob hadn't ever been true friends. There was the age gap and the fact that as kids they were constantly thrown together when their parents would have their little adult visits. Her, Jacob and—
And Nessie.
Her absence hangs in the air between them, still unacknowledged.
(Bella would trail after them, bored and with the feeling of being saddled with the babysitting. Nessie and Jacob, however, got on like a house on fire.)
She was grateful beyond relief he didn't say her name. He didn't say anything. When they reached her apartment, Jacob cleared his throat.
"You know— your truck is making a weird sound. I heard it before when you were getting out."
She blinked at him.
"And… I'm sort of failing English," he said with a sheepish grin. "I remember you saying liked to read and write and stuff. Dad wants me to find a tutor since he's worse at it than I am."
She couldn't remember ever telling him that and she wondered how he must have picked up on it.
She swallowed hard.
"Think about it."
She watched him pull away. And thought, maybe.
"She's dropping the charges," Chief Burke's tinny voice says over the phone.
She munches quietly on her cereal as she listens to the Chief recount the argument he had with Mrs. Crowley at the hospital yesterday.
"Apparently there's been some problems at home. His father's been getting worse. Mary says Tyler's been acting up at school, getting into trouble when he never used to before. She said that didn't justify him getting his head smashed in."
She can picture Chief Burke's wince on the other end of the line.
She exhales her breath in one big whoosh.
"I said I was sorry. I am."
"Still. You're suspended for three days, kiddo. Best I can do under the circumstances, you understand?"
"I do. Thank you," she says, and means it.
"Hey kid," he says softly, "take this time and focus on getting some rest. Little clarity of mind, alright?"
She quietly hangs up the phone. The window reflects grey light all around her shabby little kitchen.
Looks like rain today.
She was shy and so were the twins. They didn't make much progress as friends before her family moved away again. She saw them intermittently over the years when her parents would visit Uncle Billy and Aunt Sarah on their way to somewhere else in the continental U.S.
Billy told Charlie one night that Rebecca's head had been taken off completely with the force of the blow. The force of what, she didn't know. She overheard, when she was supposed to be in bed.
Day two of her suspension.
Her truck is making that weird sound again and Jacob is failing English and the emptiness in her home is starting to suck the air out of her lungs so she packs some sandwiches, shoves that and her now alarming pile of homework into her backpack, and makes her way over to Billy's house.
(you do this)
(run. avoid.)
Jacob frowns when she pulls up the driveway but smiles widely when he sees that it's her. Billy waves at her from the porch where he is reading a newspaper.
(i am fine)
They spend the day eating sandwiches, Bella halfheartedly doing homework in the passenger seat while Billy and Jacob debate loudly on which part of the engine is responsible for the loud screech it makes when she brakes.
(fine fine fine fine fine)
By the end, its dark out and her chest doesn't ache as much anymore.
"Bella, don't climb up on him like that."
Her mother's sharp voice cut across the quiet room and everyone turned to look at her. Her face burned.
"It's okay, Renee, I don't mind."
Billy's voice was too quiet and cracking and his eyes were red and he looked weird. This whole trip was weird. Everyone was sad. She had never seen a man cry so openly and unashamed in front of a room of people, who were milling around somberly in their black outfits, picking at casseroles.
She wanted him to pick her up but her father held her back and quietly explained that Uncle Billy would need his special chair forever now, that they would have to be careful with him.
Billy put his face in his hands and cried.
She patted his leg with her tiny hand and wondered if he could feel it.
The last day of her suspension is more eventful.
She has strange, vivid dreams.
She flies over Forks like a bird through the forest. She skims the top of a burning house, which is shaking with the howls of wolves that are trapped inside. She ends up in the hallway of a hospital where a man with a white lab coat dripping with blood is holding up the severed head of Tyler Crowley for her to inspect.
She wakes in a panic, sweating and shivering.
(will it ever stop?)
It takes her a moment to register the shrill sound that woke her. She reaches for her phone, buried somewhere in the pile of damp clothes she tore off last night before she collapsed into her mattress.
"'Lo?" she mumbles.
"Kid." The voice is breathless with excitement. "It's Chief Burke. Can you come down to the station right now?"
Her brain is slow to wake up, still stuck in her bloody dreams. "Huh? Why?"
"You need to get down here." The voice pauses. "I got some good news."
She doesn't know why, but her stomach drops at those words.
Good news.
"Remember what I told you."
Her father is so, so tall.
"Not a word to anyone. Not even to Jacob. It's a secret. When they talk about the car accident, you have to pretend that that's the truth and you don't know anything else. It's very important, Bella."
She nodded her head, feeling old and important. Monsters had been as natural to her as the air she breathed but this was new. This was someone she knew. She played with Rebecca and Rachel. Aunt Sarah had sneaked her pieces of candy before dinner. Now they were dead, sucked until all the blood was gone from their bodies.
Fifteen minutes later she's parking recklessly along the faded red-painted curb that no one ever pays any attention to. It's one of those weird town quirks, for people to casually park in the fire zones. Before her family, there hadn't been a fire in Forks for almost 17 years.
She's managed to wrangle her hair into a braid, albeit tangled, along with her cleanest pair of jeans and everyday jacket. She almost resembles a functional person. She hates seeing the Chief's mouth pull down when he happens to run into her looking run down and bedraggled— which is just her luck that those are almost always the times he happens to run into her.
Like everything else in this town, the station would look unrecognizable as what it is if it weren't for the peeling letters along the side that announce it: Forks Police Department. Bella ignores the way her heart clenches painfully as she walks up the familiar stone steps.
She is so distracted with the sharp sting of pain that she almost fails to notice the glistening black sedan— shiny and completely out of place among the faded, dull cars most of everybody in Forks drives.
She pushes the door open with a deepening sense of foreboding.
"Bella," Chief Burke says breathlessly. He is already there, pulling her inside. "So glad you made it here so fast, kiddo."
"Hi," she mumbles, allowing herself to be pulled along.
Chief Burke is up and suspiciously lucid for this time of day and she takes a practiced whiff and doesn't get any strong fumes. Past experience had told her to expect another day or two of hitting the bottle. At least.
"I have some good news. Great news."
He leads her towards his office, where she can see a tall figure examining the flyers on the Chief's wall. She's craning her neck to get a closer look when the Chief pulls her aside and blocks her line of sight.
"Listen," the Chief says, face nervous but lit with something unrecognizable. "I only just found out this morning…."
He irritatingly hesitates.
"…yeah?"
He pauses, takes a deep breath, and finally smiles widely, his huge yellow teeth glistening.
"We're finally gonna get somewhere. I didn't want to tell you 'til it was a sure thing, get your hopes up and everything and it was already such a shot in the dark but— I got him— Bella, we got him."
"Got who?"
"That would be me," she hears a voice say behind her. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Swan."
She turns slowly. Then she looks up.
The first thing she notices about him is how tall he is. The second thing is his large, dark coat that looks like something (her mind makes the association automatically) the Cullens would wear. He looks very out of place here among the flannel and jacket-wearing Forks police force. Even his professional manner is out of place among the homely Forks police force— everything about him screams outsider.
"I'm Agent Steven Marks. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Bella."
He extends a smooth, long-fingered hand.
Maybe it's the way he introduces himself, or maybe it's the way he places a slight emphasis on the word finally, or maybe it's the way his eyes stare into hers, but something tells Bella to be very, very careful with how her face looks right now. She knows he is watching her— very closely— to see how she takes this new development.
Charlie's voice echoes from somewhere to the forefront of her mind.
(First suspect, Bells— it's always the family.)
She extends a clammy hand to shake his and hopes he doesn't feel the full-body tremor thrumming under her jacket.
"Nice to meet you," she mutters.
"Agent Marks used to work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation," Chief Burke says unnecessarily enthusiastically, "but he works freelance now and he does some amazing work. You should hear about some of his cases… I picked him up on the radar a while back, a missing kid in Delaware, all over the news…"
Chief Burke rambles on and on, unaware of Bella's less than enthusiastic response. She tries to hear over the hammering of her heart.
Agent Marks stares at her through the Chief's ramble with a vague expression of interest. She tries to school her features into looking animated. Hopeful. The kind of expression you'd wear if there was finally a chance at catching your family's murderer after a long year of cold dead ends.
"I worked a few cases on family homicide during my time at the Bureau," Agents Marks says, smoothly interrupting the Chief's ramble. "That's what led Chief Burke to contact my offices. And I have to say, after hearing the details of your case, I was more than happy to lend him my services."
He stares at Bella taking in his every word. She swallows and nods as he speaks. He doesn't seem to need to blink as much as normal humans.
"It's such a unique case," he continues. "No trace DNA, no clear motive, not even a suspect…"
He trails off. His eyes are the kind of piercing blue that reflect every color around him and consequently give off the effect that he can see straight into her brain. It would be intimidating, if she were a suspect. She tries very hard not to look like a suspect. It's hard with the splattering of bruises screaming on her face.
Exactly how much has he reviewed the case? He gives off the impression that he is not the kind of man who doesn't do his homework and if he's paid any bit of attention, he should know there is one chief suspect around town.
And something about his piercing stare tells her he very much has paid attention to the rumors.
"Yeah," she finally manages to say in a rough whisper. "That's what everyone else said."
She jerks her head in the direction of Chief Burke, who looks like he's moments away from weeping in relief. He beams at her with crinkled, shining eyes.
A break for him at last.
For her, catastrophe.
"I'm… glad," she chokes out.
"Yes, well… such a sad case indeed. The loss of your family must have been unimaginable."
He nods sympathetically. She jerks her head in return.
"Yeah," she manages.
She turns her head away to break the unbearable eye contact. The other officers around them are trying— and failing— to not look like they're eavesdropping.
"I attended the wake yesterday. I was hoping to introduce myself there, but it seems you did not attend?"
"Hmm," Bella says, giving him nothing.
"Well," Agent Marks says after a brief awkward silence, "I'm looking forward to getting to know you, Miss Swan."
She became obsessed with death.
She thought about it with childish fascination, too young to feel any real grief for something that seemed so abstract and alien. It reminded her of sleeping. It still felt like Aunt Sarah and the twins would be there every time they pulled into their house, all rested and done with their hiding away.
They would jump out and say boo and then they would all laugh at the trick and Aunt Sarah would pat her head and say aren't you the sweetest thing and give her candy. Rebecca and Rachel would blink solemnly at her and offer her crayons to draw with.
The monsters were dead people walking around like alive people. So how could her friends be dead?
She goes flying down the highway.
She slams on the gas pedal, pushing her ancient truck dangerously to its limit.
This is bad, she thinks. She turns a corner sharply and nervously chews on her thumb. This is really, really bad.
What was it her father always said? No suspicion ever. The family business being what it was, they could not afford drawing attention to themselves. They had the luck of Charlie being a policeman, and as such, they could always do themselves the convenience of glossing over certain suspicions if they needed to. Falsified police reports, access to unlimited files, perfect covers for strange questions. Keep the helpless humans in the dark and all that.
But she is a 17-year-old minor— emancipated but yes— still a minor, going to high school with absolutely none of her father's resources and no such luck in anything apparently.
What is she going to do when this man starts asking questions she can't answer? What is she going to do if he works out exactly how strange this case is?
What is she going to do if he finds out she set that house on fire?
Renee, after the funeral, frantically cornered her daughter from where she lingered by the back porch.
"Mommy?"
Renee reached forward and grabbed at her, her arms circling tight around her chest and her giant belly smooshed into her face.
Bella felt, for the first time in her life, like she was looking at Renee Dwyer. Seeing someone who was more than Mommy in her mother's face. Someone with her own life. Her own fears.
"Isabella Swan, you listen to me right now. You protect yourself. Always. You never go anywhere without me. You don't go anywhere alone."
Bella blinked at her mother. Renee shook her shoulders. Hard.
"Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Mommy."
Renee hugged her hard again and sobbed into her shoulder. Bella held her terrified mother and came to a realization that she would have many times, over the years.
Her mother was only human.
It was up to Bella to protect her.
Bella is speed walking up the Black's gravel drive. It's quickly becoming familiar to her. She is about to storm Billy's house with the bad news when she sees Jacob frantically waving his arms from where he is crouching down below an open window, kneeling by the side of the house.
"Shhh," he whispers frantically when she gets close enough. "I'm listening."
He points to the open window and Bella peeks inside. She can hear indistinct voices coming from the kitchen. She recognizes Billy's smooth tenor but hears another unfamiliar one. A woman's.
Bella kneels beside him on the dirt.
"What are you doing?" She whispers.
Jacob screws up his face in concentration.
"Dad keeps kicking me out whenever his friends come over. I wanna hear what they're talking about."
Bella shuts up and listens with Jacob. After a while, she can hear some distinct phrases coming through.
"… but we must be ready…"
"… of course, the real threat comes from discovery, not exactly suspicion…"
"… keep us updated for any changes…"
"… Carlisle believes staying will be the best thing…."
Bella perks up at the name and narrows her eyes. Carlisle. One of the leeches must be inside. And judging from the unfamiliar voice, it's the one she has left to meet.
She grits her teeth and Jacob frowns at her.
What? He mouths.
She shrugs her shoulders and tries to control her face.
"Jacob!" Billy's voice calls loudly. "Was that Bella's truck I heard?"
"Shit," Jacob mutters and stands up, brushing the dirt off his knees. He rushes off toward the other side of the house and jogs over to Bella again, trying to make it sound like he was in the shed.
"Yeah, Dad! I'll go check."
He rolls his eyes at her again and helps her up by the strap of her backpack.
"Snitches get stitches," he says at her, and Bella rolls her eyes. He grins easily.
She ponders this as she makes her way up the ramp to the front door, slightly disturbed by it. It is astonishingly easy to be herself around Jacob. She's unused to the feeling with anyone who isn't family.
(don't think about that)
She steps inside the house and gets slammed in the face with the smell of vanilla. She steps into the kitchen, where the smell concentrates to the point of being mouthwatering.
"Bella? I wasn't expecting to see you back so soon. Me and Esme were just catching up in here over some coffee and some of the best cookies I've ever had in my life," Billy says, with a grateful nod towards the woman sitting across from him.
Billy does a very good job of not sounding like he's been caught red-handed but Bella guesses there must be enough betrayal on her face that he at least doesn't ask her to join them.
Esme Cullen— the only one of the bloodsuckers who Bella hasn't yet seen in person— is sitting at Billy's polished wooden table and holding a cup of coffee paused halfway to her face, like it was Bella that stopped her from drinking it.
She vaguely reminds herself to calm down, remembering what happened the last time she lost her temper.
Esme stands. She is not as tall as Bella has imagined her.
The vampire smiles gently, exposing none of her teeth, and extends a hand to where Bella is still standing with one foot out the door.
"Hello, Bella. My name is Esme Cullen— I believe you already know my husband," she says slightly apologetically.
It is hard— very hard— to not be immediately taken in by the bloodsucker. She gives off such an immediate aura of unthreatening that Bella can't help but be baffled by it. She could pass this woman on the street and not look twice if she didn't know better.
Esme Cullen is extraordinarily human. At least, she seems so. Her features are softer, more rounded than the others, who sometimes look to her like they're carved out of marble. Even her cheeks seem naturally blushed, even though Bella knows it must be some kind of facade. She wears clothes that covers the majority of her skin— a cream-colored cardigan over an innocuous flowered dress that covers all of her legs so the only skin exposed is her face and neck. Her hair falls in careful waves over her shoulders that only bring out how lovely her face is framed.
Bella swallows the rush of adrenaline down, her body automatically sensing the threat and preparing her for a fight.
Esme shuffles awkwardly and drops her hand when Bella makes no move to take it. She moves back and folds herself back down on her chair, her face sympathetic rather than offended.
"I was on my way home when I remembered I had some things to drop off here. Billy has been helping me with a school project," Esme explains (lies) easily.
Bella feels herself nodding her head, her eyes on Billy, who is still steadfastly ignoring Bella and busying himself with preparing another cup of coffee. She narrows her eyes as he mixes sugar into his cup, when she knows full well he drinks nothing but black.
"And I wanted to drop off some cookies," Esme says with a beaming smile towards Billy. "My daughter Alice has been experimenting in the kitchen lately and I don't know what to do with half the dishes she makes. Most of them have ended up here or with my fifth-graders," Esme says with an easy laugh.
"We're not complaining," Billy says, eyes crinkling as he smiles.
Bella watches this exchange with no small amount of bafflement. Esme shares that trait with her mate, the ability to spin normalcy like it's nothing.
"Do you know Alice, Bella?" Esme asks with a gentle voice. "I believe you are both in the same year, along with my son."
Bella clears her throat.
"Um. I've seen her around. I don't think we have any classes together," she answers tonelessly.
"Oh," Esme says, her face falling a little. "And my son? Edward?"
Bella bites the inside of her lip. She doesn't want to be doing this right now, shooting Billy a look that she hopes conveys the intensity of the feeling.
"I, um— We have biology together."
"Oh, that's wonderful," Esme says with a blinding smile, like Bella just handed her the moon. "I do hope you've gotten a chance to speak with him. He's not the best at being sociable."
Esme gives her a conspiratory little smile and Bella actually finds herself leaning back, recoiling from the ease with which Esme seems to speak to her about her family.
Bella has to firmly correct herself. Not family. A coven.
She makes them sound so normal.
"Please feel free to stop by anytime. I'm sure my children would be more than happy to bring you around whenever you feel like it," she says, her face so unbearably kind. And genuine.
Bella is stunned into silence, so Billy answers for her.
"That's a lovely offer, Esme. I'm sure Bella will take you up on it," he says genially, but with a reprimanding glance at Bella, as if she's being rude for not accepting the offer to visit the vampire death house.
Esme stands up gracefully, folding her hands in front of her, with the air of gathering herself up to leave.
"Please take some cookies, Bella. Alice made enough to feed a small army. And thank you again, Billy. I'll call the next time I can come up again."
"Thank you, Esme," Billy says genuinely. He wheels over to the entrance where Bella is still standing, shell-shocked. "I'll show you to the door."
Esme follows, pausing in front of Bella, another apologetic smile on her face.
"I am very happy to meet you, Bella," she says sincerely, "I do hope we will see each other again soon."
She smiles at her one last time, no trace of hostility, and turns to follow Billy out of the door. She doesn't offer her hand again.
She hears them both exchange more pleasantries, meaningless chatter about kids and schedules and get togethers. Finally, the front door shuts with a distinct finality.
Billy rolls back into the kitchen, widely arching around where Bella is still standing. He takes the same spot on the table and grabs another cookie.
"You need to work on controlling your face, Bella."
She jerks back at that.
"What do you mean?" She asks too sharply.
"She is a part-time schoolteacher with cookies and sweaters," Billy says smoothly, dunking his cookie in his coffee cup and waving it around. "You were staring at her like she was the bride of Frankenstein."
Bella stares. "You're joking right?"
"No," Billy says, "these people are more perceptive than that. Don't think they haven't noticed the way you react around them."
"And how do I react around them?"
"Like they killed your family."
Dead silence follows his words.
Billy sighs.
"Bella… I may understand you better than anyone in the world. But you were rude to my guest. And my guests are welcome here, the same way you are."
Bella fumes.
"So this is a regular thing now? How often do they even come up here? The other leech was here the day of— the other day. What did you both talk about?"
Billy keeps his eyes on his mug, stirring his coffee.
"Edward, you mean? He came to offer condolences on behalf of his family. We are making steps towards… amiable interactions. The treaty was renegotiated a year ago and there have been no problems. I daresay our people have never been safer."
She purses her lips, the whole thing just too difficult to swallow.
"Bella," he sighs, "You were rude then too. The very least you could do is greet them when you see them."
Bella swallows hard, her face burning out of nowhere. "You make it sound like I'm some misbehaving child. You know what they are."
"Who they are are my allies," Billy deadpans. "They will be here again. You will be here again. It's just something to keep in mind."
She feels irrationally irritated with him, but she can't exactly storm off yet.
"Anyway— I didn't come here to talk about the Cullens. We have a situation. It's not good."
"Yes," Billy says, turning back to his coffee, "Agent Steven Marks. Former FBI. Now a private investigator— a very good one— assigned to look into your case. Esme came by to inform me."
Bella blinks. "What? I only just found out 30 minutes ago. How do they already know?"
"They have reasons to stay vigilant as much as we do. And it's to our benefit that we work together on this. An agent looking into things here, that's not just a threat on me and you. It's a threat on all of us."
"So," Bella grits out, "We're working with the bloodsuckers on this? Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"I know that the best way to stay ahead of this man is to have all eyes available. And all possible advantages. The Cullens have nothing but advantages, as well as unlimited resources. So yes, I think it is a good idea."
Bella purses her lips. She has to admit, it does make sense. The Cullens have as strong a reason as they do to not want prying eyes.
Billy is watching her carefully.
"You need allies, Bella. I wasn't lying when I said you should take up Esme's offer."
Bella snorts.
"I just wanted to give you the courtesy of a head's up. But since you're already aware, I have homework to finish."
"You know," Billy interrupts her exit again, "Esme believes you are upset with her husband. They've both noticed your strange behavior."
Bella freezes, cold flooding her stomach.
"What do they know?"
Billy shrugs. "As far as I can tell, nothing yet. Esme was just telling me. She is under the impression you resent her husband and maybe even her for failing to save your family. Renee made it to the hospital that night. She believes you are angry that Dr. Cullen failed to save her."
Bella blinks back tears.
"Don't talk about that."
"Okay," Billy says easily. "But you might want to consider correcting that assumption."
"And how would I do that?"
Billy shrugs again. "You could tell her you are a hunter."
Bella can't help it. She laughs for real this time, because that idea can be nothing but a joke. But it dies in her throat when she sees Billy's expression.
"You're serious," she says incredulously.
Billy sighs again. He'll get a sore throat at this rate.
"Esme Cullen is not a threat, Bella. Neither is Dr. Cullen. And then there's Alice and Edward. They're in your grade, in the same school. Have you ever considered the opportunity before you? You've never had it before. All these places you've been, around the world, and can you honestly say that the friends you've made there ever really knew who you were?"
Bella can't even coherently think of a response to that. She doesn't want to tell him that she didn't even have friends.
"So, you want me to buddy up and get all cozy with the vampires?"
Billy takes a sip of his coffee and puts his mug down heavily.
"Amiable interactions. A good first step."
She blinks, speechless.
"I'm just saying, it might do some good to have someone understand the whole picture. After all, you can't rely on just the company of a meddlesome old man every time something happens in our world. Believe me, I understand how lonely keeping these secrets can become."
"You're not a meddlesome old man," Bella mutters automatically.
She doesn't want to make it sound like she's okay with it, but she knows he has her best interests at heart.
Still. He doesn't have to be so annoying about it.
Billy smiles.
"Thank you, Bella. I appreciate that. Now, I'd offer you some cookies, but I know you'd rather eat mud. Now please go tell my son that he needs to learn how to whisper when he's standing in front of an open window."
She held a crossbow for the first time after the funeral, when they got back to New Hampshire two weeks later.
Her father set it out on the kitchen table, naming aloud all the complex mechanisms of it, explaining the proper stance she'd need to take, the muscles she'd need to build over time to have the strength to hold it up, the force she'd need to pull the string back enough to let an arrow fly.
Her mother watched them from across the room, her lips pursed.
She could barely hold it up. Her arms shook with the weight of it.
"Shit. How is it that he's always one step ahead of me? And he can't even walk?"
She chews on her thumb as she watches Jacob storm around the tiny shed. She found him here after her little chat with Billy, tearing the place apart looking for something called a carburetor.
"Seems like a dickish thing to say about someone who's in a wheelchair."
"He's my dad, I'm allowed to be dickish," Jacob says rudely, well into a bad mood.
Bella relaxes, leaning against what seems like the shell of an old car, completely devoid of its insides. It's easy to be around Jacob. He's someone with no pretense and consequently, has no problem being around Bella and her constant bullshit. It's comforting to her, being around someone who not only doesn't mind her moods but actually understands them. And has some of his own. The fact that she's only really been around him for the span of three days and he already feels comfortable around her to rant about his dad is telling.
She feels like he can become a real friend, if she let him. Or at least as real as it gets for her.
Until he phases. There would be no bullshit charade between you then, a selfish voice whispers somewhere in her head.
The thought makes her slightly sad, so she pushes it away. This life is hard. She didn't want to think about Jacob being forced into it, no matter how little time she's actually spent with him. No matter how much she actually craves a real friend. Craves it so much with an intensity that it hurts.
It reminds her of Billy's suggestion of confiding in the Cullens.
She snorts out loud. Jacob looks up, confused.
"What?"
Bella just shakes her head.
"What are you doing anyway?" She asks, trying to distract him.
Jacob exhales sharply through his nose.
"Nothing, really. Organizing. I can't seem to get my head on straight today."
Bella leaves him to it, understanding his need for some space. She is just about to pull her homework out when Jacob clears his throat.
"Bella," Jacob asks, completely seriously, "why do you act so weird?"
"What?"
The question completely throws her.
She takes her time settling herself down on a rusty paint can before she turns to Jacob, who is still awaiting an answer. Her heart is skittering like a rabbit. What did he notice when she wasn't paying attention?
"What do you mean?"
"It's just…" Jacob trails off, frustrated. "I don't know. I think Dad has been keeping things from me."
Bella frowns.
"What makes you think that?"
Jacob wipes his hand over his face, exhaling sharply.
"It's just— things, you know?" He says incoherently. "Like now, or when you guys were talking the other night. What were you guys even saying that I wasn't allowed to listen to anyway?"
Bella fidgets, uncomfortably aware that Jacob is watching her face like a hawk.
"It's nothing— bad," she explains. "I think he just wanted to check in about— about how I've been doing," she chokes out.
Technically true. They had briefly touched upon that.
The cold ones at the school. They're leaving you alone? I am concerned about you having to see them every day.
(Having to remember every day, he didn't say.)
Jacob watches Bella carefully.
"I asked Dad the other day, about Mom. And Becks and Rach," he says out of nowhere.
"Oh," she says, trying to control her surprise. She doesn't remember Jacob ever willingly bringing them up. "And… what did you guys talk about?"
"The car crash," Jacob says tonelessly.
He turns his back on her, fiddling with greasy metal parts on top of the table that she can't tell heads or tails of. He's quiet for a while and she tries to formulate responses to questions he might ask. Tries to remember the cover story she was told when she was eight years old. She never expected that he would ask her this late in the game. When he didn't over the years, she had let her guard down, let those all-important details in her head dwindle away to nothing.
"Dad didn't want to tell me anything."
Jacob finally turns back to her, his face drawn and resentful, something sour brewing on his face that was rare to see and didn't belong there.
"I mean— I thought now, being sixteen would be old enough for the man to give me something— something more than I just don't see what good it does talking about things you can't change," he says in a mock imitation of Billy's voice.
"Maybe he can't talk about it yet," Bella offers quietly. "Maybe it's too painful still."
"No, no, no, no, no, that's the thing," Jacob says, shaking his head. "He talks about it with everyone. The elders, Old Quil, Harry, Sue, your parents, like— everyone. Everyone except for me."
Jacob paces back and forth, gearing up for what she's sure is a serious rant. She adjusts herself more securely on the rusty bucket she's sitting on, folding her arms over her knees in a gesture she hopes doesn't come across as defensive.
"I mean, maybe that's his way of trying to protect you. Or, protect himself somehow."
"Yes, thank you Dr. Bella. That makes so much sense," he says, rolling his eyes.
She bristles from the bucket.
"It does. Parents do that all the time. It's easier to talk about painful things with people who don't depend on you."
She looks down at the cluttered ground and Jacob kicks at the dirt with the toe of his frayed sneakers, both ignoring how her voice wavered on the word parents.
"That's not it though," Jacob says under his voice.
He looks down at her and Bella tries to keep her focus on the table behind him, feeling something dangerous brewing in the distance.
"Can you tell me something?"
That's a dangerous question but Bella finds herself nodding her head.
"Do you think there's anything unusual about how Dad was paralyzed?"
That's not the question she was expecting.
"What makes you say that?"
"Well…" Jacob trails off.
He goes to sit next to Bella on the floor, copying the way her arms are hugging her legs. Even sitting on the ground, he's a whole head higher than her, even when she's sitting on the bucket. She didn't realize how much he had grown in the span of only one year.
"Promise you won't think I'm crazy?"
Bella feels the beginning of anxiety flutter up her spine.
"I promise," she says, trying to school her face into looking like she doesn't know what's coming next.
Jacob stares intently at the floor.
"You see… I remember what we were doing that day. And Mom wasn't out for a drive. And she wasn't out with the twins either. We were home. She and Dad were going out for dinner and they got Emily to babysit Rachel and Rebecca only I was sick that day, so they left me with Sue."
Bella blinks. "I didn't know that."
"Yeah," Jacob says, finally looking up at her. "Mom and Dad dropped me off with Sue and then they went. The twins weren't with them, they were back home."
"Isn't Emily the teenager who got attacked? By the…" Bella trails off, trying to remember the exact details of the cover story.
"By the bear? Yeah," Jacob says, eyes intent on her face. "Same day as the car crash. Isn't that the weirdest part? I remember her in our house, playing with Rebecca and Rachel so… why would my dad tell me that the four of them were in the car without me?"
Bella shakes her head in mock confusion, eyes on the floor. She can still feel Jacob watching her.
"And," he continues, "Emily ends up getting mauled by a bear on the same day? A sixteen-year-old girl ends up permanently disfigured by some random bear in the middle of the woods where she had no business being on the same day she was babysitting two girls who died in a car crash that was so severe they barely had bodies to bury?"
Her heart sinks. Jacob was more perceptive than she had anticipated.
"I didn't know that," she says quietly.
"I mean. Either this town has the shittiest luck in the world or something else is going on that we don't know about."
"Hmm," Bella hums, nodding her head. Jacob is still watching her.
"And then… and then there's you."
Bella's head snaps up.
"What do you mean?"
"Bella," Jacob says seriously. "Come on. Your entire family dies in a fire? Murdered? In Forks?"
Immediate fury fills her limbs and she springs up to her feet. Jacob leans back, surprised.
"Don't talk about my family."
Jacob narrows his eyes. He jumps to his feet too and rounds at her.
"Come on, Bella, don't tell me you haven't considered it or even thought about it. How can all these things have happened out of nowhere? To you and to us? You don't think something could possibly be going on?"
"Sometimes, Jacob," Bella spits out, unexplainable rage clouding her vision, "shit just happens. It's not special, it's not for any grand reason, it's just because sometimes life— it just— it just sucks."
"Life. Just. Sucks?" Jacob repeats, eyebrows going up. "That's it? Your entire family gets murdered and you throw up your hands and give up on finding out why? You don't care about why someone did that to you? To your parents? To Ness—"
"SHUT UP!"
Her screech echoes off the metal tins that make up the walls. Jacob closes off, crossing his arms against his chest. He sizes Bella up and down, whose chest is heaving up and down like a raging bull. Her hands are shaking with some unnamable emotion.
"You know it's not normal."
"Believe whatever the hell you want," she snaps, her backpack and keys already in hand. "Your sisters and your mom are dead. You thinking that it happened in some special way somehow doesn't change that.
"You have a shit poker face, Bella."
"Go to hell, Jacob."
"And you know," Jacob calls to her retreating back, "just because you have dead parents and a dead sister doesn't give you the right to be such a dick all the time."
Bella slams the door to the shed as hard as she can. She hears something crash inside. She hopes it was expensive.
The girl was much older than her, or so it seemed, to a child looking at a teenager.
Emily Young sat by her family and another teenager, a boy with dark and serious eyes too old for his face. The white bandage on her face was a stark contrast to them all, a blot of white against a sea of black umbrellas and coats.
Emily jumped at every sound. Her eyes skittered to the woods, to the people, never resting on one thing for more than one second at a time.
Except for when she looked at Bella.
Emily's eyes met hers and she stared and stared, mesmerized by the child, until Charlie picked her up, saying it was time to go.
She slams her books down on her shabby kitchen table, rattling the uneven legs.
She has school tomorrow and she needs to focus, needs to finish the stack of work that Chief Burke oh-so-kindly dropped off the other day for her but she can't think about anything because she was a dick to Billy, an even worse dick to Jacob, and she probably should apologize but she's also so, so angry, and the Cullens are apparently having coffee dates with Billy like that's the most normal thing in the world, and there's a man in Forks who could absolutely destroy her life if he is good enough at seeing past the things that are so clearly not right in this town.
She sits, fuming, trying to focus on reading the note taped onto a stack of college applications.
The guidance counselor she's required to meet with once a week during 6th period wants her to consider her options for the future. It's the fall semester of her senior year and she hasn't applied to a single college. Her guidance counselor politely informs her via post-it note that she is way behind where her peers are in the process.
She crumples up the note and slides the stack of crisp white paper into the bin. For some reason, college doesn't apply to her. She can't think past the next day, let alone the next year. Her future is a terrifying blank space and she doesn't feel the need to make any plans for it.
(she won't make it long enough to see it)
But. First. School tomorrow.
She turns to Calculus. Does one equation. The next. The next. Gives up. Moves on to English. Jots down an adequate enough summary of the book she's read over a dozen times. Moves back to Calculus. Does one more equation. Moves on to Biology. Reads over the paper detailing the upcoming group project that will account for over half her grade this semester. Reads the name of her assigned partner.
The lead snaps off her pencil.
"Bella."
"Yes, Mommy?"
"… nothing, sweetie. Go back to sleep.
A/N: I like to theorize that in this alternate universe where hunters exist, there would be this whole rich history between Bella and the Quileute tribe.
In this world, vampires would have targeted the tribe. Sarah, Rebecca, and Rachel would have been attacked at their home, with Emily being an unlucky casualty, and Jacob being lucky enough to not have been home at the time. Billy and Sarah would have raced back home at the news of an attack.
It will be revealed later what exactly transpired and how Billy and Emily survived the vampire attack.
With the help of the elders, a car crash would be staged as explanation for the deaths.
In this universe, Emily's injury is made by a vampire (not a Native man, because that is some BS) from its razor-sharp fingernails. She would have had to have been told about the vampire world, since she witnessed the attack firsthand. She stares at Bella because she is also made aware of the existence of the hunters and would have been told that the little girl sitting on her father's lap would grow up to hunt vampires.
I hope all that was clear enough to deduce from Bella's little fragmented snippets down memory lane.
(Also, how bout that Midnight Sun news?)